A Dark and Stormy Night
by faerietaleredux
Summary: It was all a little cliché--the sky filled black with storm clouds, the school bus breaking down in an area with no cell-phone reception. And, of course, the only sign of civilization, a creepy mansion on a cliff. A JONAS fic.


_For __**LittleRedOne**__, who was kind enough to look this over and encourage my penchant for the bizarre. But who's also a friend. Thanks, Kelly.  
_

**A Dark and Stormy Night…  
**

It was all a little cliché--the sky filled black with storm clouds, the school bus breaking down in an area with absolutely no cell-phone reception. And, of course, the only sign of civilization, a mansion on a cliff—its pointed arches and flying buttress making it seem more like Count Dracula's castle than any modern home Nick had seen.

The whole night thus far seemed straight out of one of those gothic novels. And a bad one, at that.

It was supposed to be a simple enough thing—a field trip to observe rare quagmire frogs in their nocturnal state. Not that Nick was too keen on that either. But somehow Joe, who needed the extra credit if he was going to pass, had suckered him into it. "Come on, bro. It'll be fun. We can bond."

Nick rolled his eyes at the memory. Joe spent the entire bus ride sleeping, practically drooling on the window. Yes, that's right, Joe got the window seat. And Nick can vouch that school buses in no way resemble tour buses in the comfortable department. Unless you think the amenities at Buckingham Palace somehow parallel those of your local Motel 6. In that case, yes they're oddly similar.

Nick didn't really blame his brother for sleeping. He was tired himself—just too tired to sleep. They'd come back from a week of non-stop promoting—an activity the Lucas brothers found three hundred times more exhausting than performing. Something about the way the press likes to jab at you with snide little comments they think go over your head and then make shameless queries into your personal life (and proceed to act shocked at how uncomfortable it makes you feel). Like you're part of some grotesque free-for-all circus exhibit, and not a flesh and blood human being like everyone else.

Nick tried his best to push those concerns from his mind. He and his brothers agreed to keep the pop star world and all its media-induced drama completely separate from their 'normal' lives. But it wasn't always easy, you know?

He took a breath, watching as it formed a gray-white cloud in the cold night breeze. A marble-sized raindrop stuck him on the cheek. He pulled his coat close around him.

.

Before I digress much further, let's backtrack a bit. It may interest you to know _why_ Nick is outside on a strange hill at close to midnight.

It's rather simple, really.

See, when the school bus puttered to a stop in the middle of nowhere, Professor Jacobs panicked. "The _Rana capito_! If we don't see them tonight we'll miss our chance altogether!"

At Nick's puzzled expression, Joe, who'd awoken when the bus stopped, explained that _Rana capito_ "is the fancy mumbo jumbo name for the frogs we're supposed to study."

"Oh."

The bus driver popped the hood.

"Joseph, hold this flashlight so Mr. Samuels can look at the engine."

Joe, though bleary eyed, did as she said.

Ms. Jacobs paced at the front of the bus. After trying unsuccessfully to call out—both on her cell and the emergency bus phone—she switched tactics. She needed to get this bus up and moving. But she couldn't exactly leave herself. She went outside, surveying the area, and then climbed back onto the bus. Most of the other students were still sleeping, so her gaze bulls-eyed in on Nick.

"Nickolas, I'm going to need you to try and get us some help. There's a house just up that hill."

Nick got up, taking the piece of paper from her hand.

"Here's the number to the principal and to Triple A," she said, her tone matter-of-fact. "Let them know what's happened and ask them to send help. I don't know where we are exactly; I think Mr. Samuels took a detour off the I-5. So be sure to ask whoever's at the house for specifics."

.

And that, put simply, is how our hero found himself trekking up the cliff to that foreboding monstrosity of a building. Yes, to the Dracula estate.

The wind rushed against him in a sudden powerful gust.

He heard her gasp beside him.

"Are you ok?"

Her teeth chattered as she replied. "Oh, I'm fine. Just a little chilly."

"Ms. Jacobs shouldn't have made you come. You don't even have a coat."

Macy chuckled quietly. "I think she wanted me to protect you. How'd she put it--safety in numbers?"

He smiled. It was funny, especially considering that the only physical harm that ever came to him usually involved Macy Misa and her never-ending assortment of sporting supplies. But she'd been surprisingly mellow during their noiseless trek up the mountain. He was grateful for that.

He took off his jacket, the cold air brushing against his skin, and handed it to her. "Here, put it on."

"No, Nick. You need it."

"I insist. Look, we're almost to the house anyway."

She took it begrudgingly, and he helped her into it, holding the wool fabric at the shoulders.

"Thanks," she said, her voice faltering.

He watched her hands tremble in the moonlight, either from the cold or her proximity to him. Apparently, Macy's inner fangirl was very much alive, just a little tired. Like the rest of them. Either that or something was wrong… _Should he ask?_

He frowned. "No problem."

As if on cue, thunder bubbled up in the sky, sending a steady downpour of rain.

They continued up the hill silently for the next few yards and Nick was surprised to feel his mood lightening, despite the weather. If this took long, maybe they'd have to skip the frogs all together. And Ms. Jacobs would still give credit for coming. He hoped. That'd only be fair, right?

A twig snapped a few feet away and Macy jumped, clutching his arm suddenly.

They stood perfectly still for a moment and when no boogie-monsters came out of the brush, Macy let out the breath she'd been holding. "Sorry. Something about this place makes me nervous."

She let go of his arm.

"You mean creepy gothic mansions don't make you feel all warm and fuzzy?"

Macy laughed nervously. "It _is_ creepy, isn't it? A house like this, in the middle of nowhere. What kind of person lives in something that makes the batcave look like grandma's cottage?"

"I think we're about to find out."

They'd come to a large monogrammed iron gate. It was open slightly, so they walked through—their feet now crunching on tight gravel instead of the mud-soaked cliff. Nick heard dogs barking in the distance. He'd hoped for automatic outdoor lights that would turn on as they approached the house—but nothing. And the crescent moon did little to light their path. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was _off _about this place.

They reached the door—huge and foreboding gray sheet-rock with carvings of faces outlining the edges. Macy looked at him with a frown and then used the metal doorknocker to announce their presence.

No response.

She knocked again, harder this time.

No one answered, but the door opened with an eerie creek.

…

to be continued?


End file.
